Yes, smashed egg in the middle of my recently rebuilt and newly painted bay window.
Sara noticed it at breakfast. Of course I heard her saying, "Mom, look at this. What is it? How did Figaro (our outdoor cat that loves to catch birds) break that egg so high on the window?" It was one of those mom moments when you're hearing a child speak to you, but you're not really listening. I was too busy preparing breakfast for Sara and two small children and trying to apply makeup while looking at my reflection in the microwave door. I was hurrying everyone around so we wouldn't be late to Science Camp.
It wasn't until I was parking in the driveway after dropping Sara off at Camp that I noticed the broken eggshells. Now why in the world would someone throw eggs at my house and cars? What would possess someone to be so ornery? I'm assuming it was more than one kid because who would want to run around the neighborhood in the middle of the night alone? That wouldn't be any fun.
I had a choice in how to react to this. When I referred to this incident, would my family hear harmful or helpful words? Was I going to practice what I preach to them, "You need to treat others how you want to be treated." But wait, someone didn't treat my property the way I wanted it treated or the way their parents want there windows and vehicles treated! Do I have no right to be angry and seek justice? I had to examine my heart and my motives.
We did report this to the police. Later we discovered others neighbors had been visited by the same happy egg bandits that night. We washed the trucks, cleaned the window, and we now turn on the outdoor security lights before we go to bed.
". . .For God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7b
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Pictures of Europe, Take Two
No, really, here are the 5 pictures I thought were posting a few minutes ago.
I'm trying to post these pictures, but the computer just won't let me. I surrender. I forfeit this cruel game to the cyber team. I'm going to bed.
I'm trying to post these pictures, but the computer just won't let me. I surrender. I forfeit this cruel game to the cyber team. I'm going to bed.
Pictures of Europe
Here are some pictures of our trip to Europe last month. The first photo is a cliff along the Amalfi Coast between Naples and Sorrento, Italy.
Photo 2 is Rob and me with the Amalfi Coastline in the background.
Photo 3 is Rob and I at the farm in Sorrento where toured and had lunch.
Photo 4 is some of the excavated ruins of Pompeii.
Photo 5 is a fountain set in an elaborately designed tile basin inside the front foyer of a wealthy citizen's home, Pompeii.
I can not figure out how to post more than 5 pix at a time. This is so frustrating because I have so many wonderful things I want to show you. But, this is all I can do for tonight. Enjoy.
Photo 2 is Rob and me with the Amalfi Coastline in the background.
Photo 3 is Rob and I at the farm in Sorrento where toured and had lunch.
Photo 4 is some of the excavated ruins of Pompeii.
Photo 5 is a fountain set in an elaborately designed tile basin inside the front foyer of a wealthy citizen's home, Pompeii.
I can not figure out how to post more than 5 pix at a time. This is so frustrating because I have so many wonderful things I want to show you. But, this is all I can do for tonight. Enjoy.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Back to Reality
Hello Blog fans! Sorry my posts are unpredictable, but our latest travels took us to the remote mountain tops of Northern Arizona, via Vegas, where cell service and Internet is mostly not available. I have enlisted the help of a gifted writer in our family to tell you about our most recent adventures, but it's past her bedtime. You must wait until tomorrow to hear her perspective of our airport experiences, 4 hour flights, rental car navigation from Las Vegas over Hoover Dam (or as we affectionately call it 'Hoover Ham') through a desolate western Arizona to the Grand Canyon National Park. I like to refer to my new helper as my 'Blog Fairy'. I'm looking forward to hearing what's in her heart.
I will tell you that it was a great trip. Maybe another mom of five who just spent 7 days sandwiched in the middle of the back seat of a minivan so that her more carsick prone child could sit in the front might thank her lucky stars that she's finally home and can get away from her family. But I'm telling you if Rob came home tomorrow and said, "Honey, I just found a couple thousand dollars lying around, let's take the kids on another road trip!", I'd do it all again. Don't be fooled. There were several tense moments between everyone at different times, but the laughter far outweighed the tears.
Once again, I'll try to attach pictures. See you tomorrow.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Final Goodbye
Today we said our final goodbyes to my dear mother-in-law.
We arrived late last night after our plane was delayed over an hour and a half. It's always a warm welcome here with my in-laws no matter the hour of our arrival. They were sitting on the front porch waiting for us to arrive. We all hugged in the front yard, carried in luggage, and ate a very late dinner.
This morning seemed to pass in slow motion and I tried to retain every moment. In my lifetime there are a handful of days that are so powerful that I remember details like where I was, what I was wearing, who was with me, what did it smell like or feel like. I'm sure you have days like this, too. The night of your first date, your wedding day, the birth of children, phone calls delivering the news of death, funerals burying the people we love, these are all days of immense emotions that are forever etched in our mind.
We entered the foyer of the church this morning for the funeral service. Much of it looked the same as it did 40 years ago when my husband would walk in holding hands with his mom for Sunday morning worship. He pointed out to our children where he and his sister would sit on the front row with his parents during church. He recounted stories of his mom thumping him for misbehavior. This is where he first played music. It's also the room where he became a believer. I watched him as he looked around that sanctuary today and I could tell he was recalling parts of his childhood, missing people that are no longer here.
The casket was a simple golden wood with two of her quilts draped on either end and a stunning spray of flowers in the center. The same florist who created the casket spray did all the flowers at my niece's wedding not long ago. The arrangement surpassed my sister-in-laws expectations. It was a mixture of pastel colors, yellow and pink roses, blue and lavender orchids, white peonies, baby's breathe and fern leaves. It looked like a floral quilt, which was the request of my sister-in-law. There were a few other potted plants and traditional funeral arrangements, but everything else paled in comparison to the flowers draping her coffin.
The first people I saw were the Mallory's, family friends who knew my mother and father-in-law before they were married fifty-three years ago. They shared some fond memories with us about trips they had taken together and singing in the church choir. I immediately recognized their faces, but I needed help remembering their names.
The service began promptly with a few words and a song by my niece. That was followed by Cookie and Rob, the only children, sharing stories about their mom. They both did an outstanding job. I was very proud of them. Then my brother-in-law spoke loving, kind words honoring this sweet woman we were all so blessed to know.
I heard most of everything the three of them said, but I began remembering my own moments with Donna. I realized there are too few of them. I can picture her pulling into our driveway for a visit in their red Ford Towncar, playing games with my children, singing in the choir loft, peeling potatoes on Thanksgiving morning, concentrating on a crossword puzzle while sitting in her green chair. I can smell her perfume, hear her laughter, see her smile. How do you keep those memories vivid? Why does it seem like 87 years are not enough?
My sister-in-law shared some things that were knew to me. Donna was pregnant with my husband when she was forty years old. She was advised to abort the pregnancy. Thankfully, she would have no part of that. She did have an extended hospitalization after his birth and a long recovery. Cookie was only four years old and wanted to name my husband after her pet turtle, instead he shares his father's name. She had breakfast every Friday morning with her parents for years. She continued this tradition until the very end of Donna's life. This is one of the things that saddens me the most, the thought of my dear sister-in-law's empty Friday mornings.
Rob's tribute was eloquent. He labored over what he would say and the words he shared were beautiful. The service ended with my brother-in-law playing a family favorite hymn, "The Old Rugged Cross". As he played, I was taken back to the family's living room years ago when he would sit at Donna's piano and play on keys chipped by my husband's childhood drumming. I can close my eyes and see the pictures that hung on the wall above the piano, the grandfather clock to the right and the heirloom chess board and pieces to the left.
I remember the night Rob told his parents about meeting me and the beginning of our dating. We were at his house. It was late summer and they were planning to visit soon. He was talking on the phone with his parents and he told them we had met at work. Donna's first questions about me surprised me. She didn't ask about my looks or my family. She asked if I was a Christian, if I shared the same faith. I think she could tell how much he loved me and she was concerned about his heart being equally yoked. It was a sweet concern, an answer to prayers she had been whispering for years on behalf of her only son.
After the service, we drove to the cemetery and said our final goodbyes. Donna Louise now rests beside her beloved under a huge oak tree heavy with dripping moss. It's a beautiful picture of serenity and peace, a fitting place to end a life well lived.
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." - Matthew 5:8
We arrived late last night after our plane was delayed over an hour and a half. It's always a warm welcome here with my in-laws no matter the hour of our arrival. They were sitting on the front porch waiting for us to arrive. We all hugged in the front yard, carried in luggage, and ate a very late dinner.
This morning seemed to pass in slow motion and I tried to retain every moment. In my lifetime there are a handful of days that are so powerful that I remember details like where I was, what I was wearing, who was with me, what did it smell like or feel like. I'm sure you have days like this, too. The night of your first date, your wedding day, the birth of children, phone calls delivering the news of death, funerals burying the people we love, these are all days of immense emotions that are forever etched in our mind.
We entered the foyer of the church this morning for the funeral service. Much of it looked the same as it did 40 years ago when my husband would walk in holding hands with his mom for Sunday morning worship. He pointed out to our children where he and his sister would sit on the front row with his parents during church. He recounted stories of his mom thumping him for misbehavior. This is where he first played music. It's also the room where he became a believer. I watched him as he looked around that sanctuary today and I could tell he was recalling parts of his childhood, missing people that are no longer here.
The casket was a simple golden wood with two of her quilts draped on either end and a stunning spray of flowers in the center. The same florist who created the casket spray did all the flowers at my niece's wedding not long ago. The arrangement surpassed my sister-in-laws expectations. It was a mixture of pastel colors, yellow and pink roses, blue and lavender orchids, white peonies, baby's breathe and fern leaves. It looked like a floral quilt, which was the request of my sister-in-law. There were a few other potted plants and traditional funeral arrangements, but everything else paled in comparison to the flowers draping her coffin.
The first people I saw were the Mallory's, family friends who knew my mother and father-in-law before they were married fifty-three years ago. They shared some fond memories with us about trips they had taken together and singing in the church choir. I immediately recognized their faces, but I needed help remembering their names.
The service began promptly with a few words and a song by my niece. That was followed by Cookie and Rob, the only children, sharing stories about their mom. They both did an outstanding job. I was very proud of them. Then my brother-in-law spoke loving, kind words honoring this sweet woman we were all so blessed to know.
I heard most of everything the three of them said, but I began remembering my own moments with Donna. I realized there are too few of them. I can picture her pulling into our driveway for a visit in their red Ford Towncar, playing games with my children, singing in the choir loft, peeling potatoes on Thanksgiving morning, concentrating on a crossword puzzle while sitting in her green chair. I can smell her perfume, hear her laughter, see her smile. How do you keep those memories vivid? Why does it seem like 87 years are not enough?
My sister-in-law shared some things that were knew to me. Donna was pregnant with my husband when she was forty years old. She was advised to abort the pregnancy. Thankfully, she would have no part of that. She did have an extended hospitalization after his birth and a long recovery. Cookie was only four years old and wanted to name my husband after her pet turtle, instead he shares his father's name. She had breakfast every Friday morning with her parents for years. She continued this tradition until the very end of Donna's life. This is one of the things that saddens me the most, the thought of my dear sister-in-law's empty Friday mornings.
Rob's tribute was eloquent. He labored over what he would say and the words he shared were beautiful. The service ended with my brother-in-law playing a family favorite hymn, "The Old Rugged Cross". As he played, I was taken back to the family's living room years ago when he would sit at Donna's piano and play on keys chipped by my husband's childhood drumming. I can close my eyes and see the pictures that hung on the wall above the piano, the grandfather clock to the right and the heirloom chess board and pieces to the left.
I remember the night Rob told his parents about meeting me and the beginning of our dating. We were at his house. It was late summer and they were planning to visit soon. He was talking on the phone with his parents and he told them we had met at work. Donna's first questions about me surprised me. She didn't ask about my looks or my family. She asked if I was a Christian, if I shared the same faith. I think she could tell how much he loved me and she was concerned about his heart being equally yoked. It was a sweet concern, an answer to prayers she had been whispering for years on behalf of her only son.
After the service, we drove to the cemetery and said our final goodbyes. Donna Louise now rests beside her beloved under a huge oak tree heavy with dripping moss. It's a beautiful picture of serenity and peace, a fitting place to end a life well lived.
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." - Matthew 5:8
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
